As they ate, the initial silence of the hut was replaced by the sounds of enthusiastic crunching and satisfied hums. The shock of the texture gave way to pure, unadulterated amazement. The crispiness of the tubers, the juicy tenderness of the meat…it was unlike anything they had ever put in their mouths.

"Sol," Liora mumbled, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, grease staining her chin. "Where did you learn this? You've never touched a cooking stone in your life. You used to say the smoke made your eyes water."

"Yeah," Veyra added, though she was reaching for a third piece with shameless speed, abandoning her earlier skepticism. "You barely knew which end of the knife to hold yesterday. Now you're suddenly able to cook such delicious food?"

Sol paused, stumped for a second. He froze mid-chew, his mind racing. He couldn't exactly say he watched hours of cooking shows and survival videos in a past life where people flew in metal birds, argued on the internet and even gooned to smut novels.

"I... I don't know," he lied smoothly, putting on a confused, distant expression, tapping his temple. "When I was unconscious... floating in that dark place... all this weird information was just floating in my mind. Like I don't know how to tell. I just... knew what to do. It felt like hands guiding mine."

Hearing this, Lyra's eyes lit up with devout awe. She clasped her hands together, looking toward the soot-stained roof of the hut as if the heavens had opened.

"It must be a blessing!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with gratitude. "The spirits returned you to us with a gift to help us survive. Oh, praise the ancestors! They watched over you in the dark and taught you the ways of the flame."

Sol instantly breathed a quiet sigh of relief, internally thanking lyra for such a good excuse, while nodding earnestly. "Yes, yes, it must be the ancestors. Good old ancestors. It must be their blessing."

Hearing this everyone had a dawn of realization and nodded in understanding, thoroughly convinced, in this era spirits and ancestors were most scared and people didn't doubt anything related to them. It was the perfect excuse for his change.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief and went back to eating. But just then, a shadow fell across the doorway, blocking the dying light of dusk. It was followed by a voice rich with amusement and a heavy, alluring scent of wild flowers and mature musk that instantly seemed to overpower the smell of the cooking grease.

"Something smells sinful in here. Are you lot hiding a feast from your favorite neighbor?"

Sol looked up and nearly choked on his rabbit meat.

Damn, he thought, his eyes widening as they swept over the figure leaning against the doorframe. Another bombshell.

Standing there was Evara.

She was their neighbor, a childless widow whose husband had died years ago during a hunt. In a tribe that valued lineage and reproduction above all else, a widow who had borne no children was often viewed with pity or superstition…shunned as "unlucky" or "barren." Most women withered under that kind of treatment, shrinking away from the village gaze.

But Evara? She seemed to thrive on it. She walked with her head high, free and easy, completely unbothered by the petty gossip of the village.

And she was... ripe.

That was the only word Sol could find for her. She was older than Arelia, perhaps in her late forties, with a body that was a masterpiece of soft, heavy curves that the rough furs struggled to contain. Her hidewrap was tied loosely, exposing the deep, creamy valley of massive, heavy breasts that swayed with her every movement. Her hips were wide, her thighs thick and powerful, and her face… framed by loose, wavy chestnut hair… held a lazy, sensual smile that was enough to arouse any able man. She radiated a heat that was entirely different from the young girls; this was the heat of a woman in her prime who had been lonely for too long.

"Evara!" Lyra smiled, waving her in warmly. "Come in, come in! Sol made dinner. It's... well, very delicious, more than anything I have ever had… it's a blessing from the spirits."

Evara sauntered in, her hips swaying hypnotically. She eyed the food, then looked at Sol with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling into a tease. "Little Sol cooked? The boy who faints at the sight of a blood?"

"He's changed," Aunt Lyra said proudly, puffing out her chest. " You know that, he had an accident a few days ago, but due to the blessing of spirits he survived and received blessings from spirits."

Evara nodded, she also knew about his accident and came to visit him when he was unconscious and almost on death bed, and felt pity for him, but now seeing him fully healthy, she believed in Lyra's words. It must be the spirit's blessing.

"Here, try some. There is plenty." Lyra offered.

Evara refused at first, waving her hand with feigned politeness. "No, no, I couldn't take your food, Lyra. You have mouths to feed, and I have my own jerky at home..."

But the savory smell of rendered fat and caramelized sugar hit her nose, overpowering her resolve. Her stomach betrayed her with a loud, demanding growl.

"Just a taste," Lyra insisted, pushing the leaf platter toward her. "Sol had made enough."

Evara finally relented with a grin, licking her lips. She moved closer, bringing that intoxicating floral scent with her. She picked up a piece of the seared meat, blew on it gently, and popped it into her mouth.

And immediately froze.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her head tipping back slightly. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips…a sound so erotic it made Sol shift uncomfortably in his seat and cross his legs.

"Oh... my..." Evara swallowed, opening her eyes to look at the leaf platter as if it were solid gold. "This is... by the Mother... this is the best thing I have ever eaten. In my entire life. It's not chewy... it melts..."

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